Garden Shadows

When the dawn winds whisper

To the standing corn,

And the rose of morning

From the dark is born,

All my shadowy garden

Seems to grow aware

Of a fragrant presence,

Half expected there.

In the golden shimmer

Of the burning noon,

When the birds are silent

And the poppies swoon,

Once more I behold her

Smile and turn her face,

With its infinite regard,

Its immortal grace.

When the twilight silvers

Every nodding flower,

And the new moon hallows

The first evening hour,

Is it not her footfall

Down the garden walks,

Where the drowsy blossoms

Slumber on their stalks?

In the starry quiet,

When the soul is free,

And a vernal message

Stirs the lilac tree,

Surely I have felt her

Pass and brush my cheek,

With the eloquence of love

That does not need to speak!